Sam's Gardens
by Nanchih
Summary: Rosie was not sure when she first noticed something odd in the gardens around Bag End, early that spring of 1420. Standard disclaimers about me not owning or profiting from Tolkien's property - I'm only playing with them and will return them unharmed.
1. Chapter 1

Standard disclaimers about me not creating, owning, or making money off any of the characters.

Sam's Gardens

Rosie was not sure when she first noticed something odd in the gardens around Bag End, early that spring of 1420. Sam was very busy in that first year at home, going up and down the length and breadth of the Shire planting trees with the grains of dust from the tiny box the Elf woman had given him. He also helped clear the sheds from the gardens, and spent a lot of time cleaning the flower beds and kitchen garden of nails and bits of scrap lumber. She didn't have time to help outside. There was so much work for her to do at home, getting ready for her wedding, cleaning the awful mess inside Bag End, and getting Gaffer and Marigold into their new hole. Some days she felt she barely sat down!

Every time Sam came, which was often, he brought cuttings and bundles of roots in his pockets. He planted them in the sheltered seedling beds on the side of the hill, and tended them himself. The beds closest to the path and the road were abundant with familiar flowers and bedding plants - strawberries and snapdragons and tomatoes and more. But as her eyes strayed she noticed the rear beds did not have the familiar shapes and colors.

She also knew Sam talked to the travelers, just as Frodo did. Elves and Dwarves were more common on the roads than before. Sam knew they made her nervous, but he reassured her he would never leave her again. When he came home with odd bundles in his pockets, she began to know he had been talking to them. Soon she knew without asking that the visitors brought plants to Sam.

As the hole became clean and respectable again, Sam began transplanting his bedded plants, getting ready for Frodo to move back home. Rosie did direct him a little about the kitchen garden, which would be hers. She paid less attention to which plants he chose to place along the paths and under the windows, only noticing that he seemed to have some design in mind. Every bed and walk was edged with a tiny dark leafed plant she didn't recognize, with flower seedlings filling the rest of the bed.

She could see from the front door the little Mallorn tree growing in the great meadow at the bottom of the hill. Sam had told her of the beauty of the home of the Elves, but she had trouble believing how large it would be. The top of the Party Oak had been below the level of the door, but Sam told her the Mallorn would be taller than the hill! Now she watched him down there, a beloved speck, as he stopped marking out a new picnic area to speak with another Elf.  
They were the tallest visitors, these Elves, though she knew most came at night. They seemed delighted with the little tree they towered over.

Sam came up the hill well before dinner, in a cheerful mood. He had another bundle in his hand. He stopped in the potting shed and spent some time setting each seed in a little cup of earth. He hummed as he worked, spreading the trays of cups with soft net to keep bugs and birds out. The trays then went into a sunny corner window, and he sprinkled them with fresh water.

"That Elf," he told Marigold as he came into Gaffer's hole, "Walked all the way here from Lothlorien, just to bring me those seeds!  
He's on his way to the Havens, of course, but think of it! He took a detour to see our tree!" Marigold smiled at his joy, and served the stew.

Early the next day the seeds were already letting leaflets peep through the net when Sam checked them. The Elf had been right about how rapidly they would grow. Sam took the trays to his wheelbarrow, with some planting tools. Rosie watched him go down to the meadow again, and watched him begin to lay out seed beds around the Mallorn, raying out to the picnic area and the area of bark mulch that she knew would become a playground for their children. Sam had not wasted the dead trees as he replanted, but had set work crews to chopping them into firewood, and turned the extra bark and sticks into ground cover, free to any who could use them. He worked quickly, turning the dark soil up and covering the seedlings with the nets so birds would not damage them searching for worms.

Within a few days the little plants had no need of the protection. They had grown as quickly at the Mallorn, covering the ground with soft green. Sam came, shyly, and asked Rose to walk with him. The air in the meadow seemed scented, and she could see tiny flower buds already forming. "Elanor, and niphredil." Rose looked at Sam, and realized he was naming the flowers. His eyes seemed dark with memory, and he was not looking at her. "These grow under the Mallorn trees in Lothlorien. In the Winter they bloom golden and pale green, so that the grass is covered. I do not know if they will bloom in the snow, for it is colder here than there, but I expect they will bloom in early Spring and late Fall. The Elf thought the tree would like to have them about its feet." This may have been the longest speech Rosie had ever heard from Sam, and she was astonished. Who ever heard of a tree 'liking' flowers? But in the coming days Sam seemed right, for both the tree and the flowers grew well.

Visitors to the memorial garden that Sam put around the grave of those killed in the Battle Of Bywater, also noticed a new plant. In the grass grew a white flower like a tiny star, that Merry had brought from Rohan. It bloomed in all seasons. He called it 'simbelmyn ', or evermind, and seemed sad.

At Bag End Rosie stopped one day and really looked at what was growing there. Familiar flowers seemed framed by something else, a plant with long, dark-green leaves and tiny flowers. Familiar scents were mingled with something, wholesome? Suddenly she knew it.  
"Sam!" She cried in surprise, "You've planted the beds around the hole with a WEED!"

Sam shook his head. "It's no weed, lass, though most people have forgotten it. It's "Athelas", which we sometimes call "Kingsfoil."

She knew that name, but looked puzzled still. "We've forgotten it? And you learned something about it on your travels?"

Sam nodded. "It's good for headaches, and more. In the hands of the King it can save lives. It saved Frodo more than once, and me at the end." He spoke this last bit softly, because she didn't like to hear of his great dangers. He went on quickly, "I thought as how Frodo was strengthened by it before, perhaps it could keep the air here healthier for him. And I remembered a bit someone not far from here spoke once, that gave me the idea. She said, 'Nothing passes door or window here save moonlight and starlight and the wind off the hill-top'  
I hoped that this could keep the air wholesome, healthy for Frodo." He actually blushed, as he said the last, and Rosie loved him more than ever. All Sam ever seemed to do was think of others!

She didn't know if Athelas really was any good, but the plants seemed sturdy and the dark leaves made a nice frame for the flowers. Now that she was actually looking, she realized Sam had also planted it as a border around the picnic area, and the playground, and many other spots around their homes. Its scent became a familiar part of the background of her life. And, mindful of Sam's words about its virtues, the leaves became part of her herb-lore.

Lynn B Hocraffer, Feb 21, 2004


	2. Chapter 2

Standard disclaimers. Tad and Posie are my own interpretation of the two children at Sam & Rosie's wedding, with their parents. The Healer wandered in from somewhere else, maybe jodancingtree?

Lynn H

Sam's Gardens, Ch. 2 Too terrible to contemplate

Rosie was hoping to finish her wedding dress today. It was a drippy, gray day, and she did not want to leave the house. Doing the last bits of embroidery on her waist seemed just right. So, she sat near the lamp with her sewing after the dishes were done. Her mother was bustling around, fixing the stew they would have for supper. Suddenly she remembered something and called out, "Mother,  
I promised to go Hobbiton, to Amber's today. Her little girl Posie (who was to be Rosie's flower girl next week) isn't feeling well.  
We are going to get her outfit ready."

Mother Cotton stuck her head around the corner and said, "Not to worry honey. I'll have your brothers hitch up a cart so you don't get all muddy. You'll be staying for lunch and tea, I'm sure, but try to get home before dark! The pony shouldn't stay out in the wet." Chuckling, Mother packed a small basket with some sweets and honey buns to cheer up the child, while Rosie put her sewing in a bag to stay dry and got her cloak.

Amber was glad to see Rosie coming through the drizzle. They put the pony in the small shed with some dry hay, and pulled a tarp over the cart. Posie was listless, wrapped in a quilt, on the settle near the fire. She smiled to see Rosie, but didn't even look at the treats. Soon she dozed off, her face pale. "That's how she's been for a couple of days now, no energy. It's not normal, but I can't find a thing the matter with her. She isn't right, but the only thing she says hurts is her foot, a little bit, yet I can't find so much as a bruise."

"Let me look at that foot," Rosie asked. Amber was right, there wasn't any mark or cut, but there was a little swollen spot on the heel. Hobbit children's feet are tough, though not as hard as their parents'. "Perhaps it's a bruise coming? Though, that shouldn't make her so listless." Rosie and Amber settled nearby with their sewing and chatted softly, making plans for the wedding. Posie's brother was playing on the floor with some wooden animals.

A little later, Posie cried out softly. The ladies went to her and saw she was flushed, beginning to run a fever. "Well, whatever it is, she's getting sicker. I think I'll send Tad for the Healer."  
They got her up, and as she set her foot down she yelped! Amber quickly set her back and pulled the foot up. In the lamplight they could see something any mother fears - pink streaks going up around the child's ankle.

"TAD!", Amber called, "Get your cloak on and run to the healer!  
Tell him it's blood poisoning!" The lad jumped up and dashed out the door.

He was back in a few minutes. "He isn't home. He went down by the Water where there was a cart accident." He reported nervously,  
looking at his little sister. "They'll send him along when he gets back."

Rosie said, "Take my pony and find him - hurry! If you can't find him, go get my mother."

Blood poisoning, in such a tiny child! It can be fatal in a few hours, and is very painful. IF the healer could drain the poison (and there was still no wound showing), the child might be sick for weeks. If he couldn't stop it quickly, he'd have to amputate and cauterize to try to save her life.

Rosie and Amber didn't stand still. Amber put several pots and kettles of water on the stove, and threw every knife and scissor in the house into one. In an oven she put clean towels. Rosie checked over the herbs in Ambers' cupboard, and realized they didn't have much to work with. She had Feverfuge, and Solomon's Seal,  
wintergreen and Chamomile, and willow bark. All right for ordinary fevers and sniffles, but nothing that would help now. She needed a poltice. She stood still a moment thinking, then put on her own cloak and went out. The drizzle had changed to rain, a steady sort that would probably continue all day. Rosie held her wraps tightly around her and headed for Bag End. The new herb garden there was young, but had more than Amber's cupboard. In the rain she picked a few young onions, some assorted leaves, and turned to go.

In her mind she heard something Sam had said, "it's good for headaches, will draw or slow poisons, and in the hands of the King can save lives." He had told her how to use that weed! "Oh Sam, I wish you were here to tell me if I'm right," she thought,  
and picked a handful of young Athelas. Then she ran, heedless of the mud, back to Amber's hole.

Amber had Posie sitting up, with her foot in a bucket of cold water, washing her legs with strong laundry soap. Her face was stern, but her hands gentle. Rosie knew she was afraid. Rosie got a bowl, filled it with boiling water, and crushed several of the Athelas leaves into it. "I haven't got the hands of the King," she said, slightly wildly, "but I know his name - Aragorn. If there is any virtue in that, this may help." The fragrance filled the room with a scent like sun on the meadows. Rosie took the bowl and began to wash Posie's face and arms.

She even urged Posie to sip a little as tea. "It's nice," the child said dreamily, "like drinking flowers." Amber looked even more worried.

The day dragged on, and no one remembered to eat lunch. Both went to the door a dozen times, hoping for the healer. Finally they heard a cart, and Mother Cotton arrived with her big bag of medicines. She took charge immediately.

"There's no more time to wait. The streaks are above her ankle.  
Clear the table," she directed as she pulled various items out.  
"Here, Rosie, chop these for a poltice. I'm going to cut that swelling open." She smiled approval at the young onions. "Just the thing." Then she noticed the scent from the bowl. "What is that?"  
When Rosie explained, she sighed, "It can't hurt," which left Rosie knowing just how bad things looked.

Rosie started chopping: onions, Athelas, Golden Seal - she threw in everything they had, and put the chopped mess into a small skillet on the stove with some of the boiled water.

By this time Amber was looking pale herself, so Rosie had her stir the poltice. She held Posie's hands tightly. More tightly than was needed, for Posie wasn't fussing a bit as Mother Cotton cut open the swollen heel. The child seemed to be somewhere else, talking of flowers and playing in the meadow.

There was a spurt of blood and pus, which Mother Cotton wiped away.  
In the pus was a tiny thorn, which she set aside. "It must have worked its way in slowly, so the skin healed around it. I've seen it before, very dangerous!" Finally she had the wound cleaned out and bleeding cleanly.

Now Amber passed her the slightly cooled pan, and she scooped some of the poltice into a patty to fit the heel, wrapping it in a hot,  
wet towel. "We'll keep this hot until we see improvement." Mother Cotton spoke with assurance, yet Rosie and Amber both knew if there was no improvement the next step would have to be amputation. The afternoon dragged on into teatime.

***

With a clatter of cart wheels and muddy sounds of pony feet, the door opened. In rushed Amber's husband, followed by Tad and finally by the healer with his bag.

The three ladies were seated around the table, sewing by lamplight,  
with cups of tea. On the settle by the fire was the folded quilt.  
Mother Cotton looked up and smiled, "You're late. Come look."  
She rose.

The father looked stunned. "Posie - where's my baby?"

Amber smiled an exhausted smile, "She's fine. See," as she opened the side door, "she's sleeping peacefully in her room."

Posie woke up, and, seeing her daddy, reached up her arms. He took her up and carried her back to the firelight. Her little foot was bandaged, dangling under her nightgown, but there were no marks on her ankle.

The healer was amazed. "I was not expecting this! Mother Cotton,  
you are a wonder! You saved the child!"

Mother Cotton shook her head. "Not me. Rosie saved her, with a weed."

Lynn Hocraffer Feb 25, 2004 minor corrections May 18, 2009 


End file.
